


To be in a position so as to be very near to someone, with very little space between

by AnnaAalora



Series: Life in Another World [5]
Category: Another World | Out of this World (Video Game)
Genre: Alien/Human Relationships, M/M, POV Second Person, Romantic Friendship, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-30 22:52:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8552605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaAalora/pseuds/AnnaAalora
Summary: While you are aware that frustration might be influencing you to exaggerate the situation, you are convinced the nights here must be at least three times longer than on earth, and in a permanent state of winter.





	

While you are aware that frustration might be influencing you to exaggerate the situation, you are convinced the nights here must be at least three times longer than on earth, and in a permanent state of winter.

A shuddering sigh slips past your lips and you close your eyes and push your head into the pillow before rolling over and wedging your hands under your cheek. You send out a silent prayer to the universe that your blankets will retain a least a little of your body heat and bunch them tighter around your shoulders.

Trying to distract yourself, you think of Archimedes' principle Axiom of Archimedes, Bell’s theorem, the Boltzmann equation. It helps a bit; the words spin into a world of familiar territory, and you are able to marginally relax. By the time you move onto the Doppler Effect, tension in your limbs is unknotting itself nicely, and your eyes slip shut.

 

* * *

 

You wake up on your back. You think you must have fallen asleep, but not for any substantial amount of time based on how groggy you feel. The blankets, and your limbs, are stiff and unyielding when you fumble to adjust the covers, causing cold air to flood in under them and suck away any warmth that lingered there; you are shaking as you try to massage feeling back into your skin in what seems to be a fruitless endeavor.

Your hands ache as you bundle the blankets up to cover the lower half of your face and roll over to peer across the room at your friend. He gives a loud snore and flings one arm over his head. You smile at the sight before being racked by another round of shivers, slightly jealous of his ability to adapt to the ever-fluctuating temperature.

A large part of you wishes he would notice your predicament, but it feels unbearably childish to create enough of a disturbance just to wake him and make him come to you. You burrow down into the blankets and picture crossing the room yourself and simply slipping under the covers with him. The thought makes you mentally backpedal; he would notice the instant you did that and then you would have to find a way to explain away your actions. You think the rational thing to do would be to wake him first to see if he would be receptive and the thought rolls around in your head for a few seconds before you check at how uncertain you are being about this; everything you have absorbed from the way he interacts with you tells you he would welcome you with open arms, quite literally.

With that last thought at in your mind, you move to get off the bed to go to him but still find yourself hesitating, despite not being able to come up with one logical reason as to why you should not attempt this.

The wind blows outside and you shiver harder and pull the blankets over your head. You clench and unclench handfuls of the blankets in your fists, feeling a hot wave of self-consciousness trickle down your back and neck, then abruptly sit up and throw your covers off.

Discomposure be damned, you are going to make yourself go over there.

You peel one blanket off the others to wrap around yourself, and then tentatively cross the room, your heartbeat thudding in your ears. By the time you kneel down beside him, your teeth are rattling so hard you have to clench your jaw to stop the noise. You place a hesitant hand on his arm to give him a soft shake, but the second your fingers touch him he rolls over towards you in a seamless motion that almost makes you jump out of your skin.

He looks at you inquiringly and you can pinpoint the second the blush materializes on your skin. He reaches out to you questioningly and his hand radiates heat where he has cupped it around your shoulder. The contrast in temperature causes a full-body tremor that is felt by both of you, and he finds your gaze and holds it. The way he is looking at you makes thoughts grind to a screeching-halt; you don’t notice when he opens his arms to you, and when it does register, your limbs won’t cooperate with you and you end up letting him handle you like a doll as he maneuvers you into his bed.

You almost cry with relief at the warmth, but hesitate at how to arrange yourself in such close proximity. He seems to be at a similar loss, arm wrapped around your shoulder at an awkward angle, and the blanket you wrapped around your shoulders is uncomfortably bunched under the two of you.

He starts shifting around next to you, and you turn to look at him just as he rolls your over onto your right side and spoons you. He pulls away the blanket wadded up under your upper body and spreads it on top of the rest of his before returning his attention to you. Already half-asleep from the warmth, you sigh at the sensation of him rubbing his hand up and down your bare arm, and give a contented murmur as he pulls you tighter against him. You are almost asleep when you feel him slide his hand under your shirt, and then down to cup your behind.

A small part of you wants to see what he does next, but the part that currently has the most sway over you just wants to sleep, so you deliberately push your icy feet against his shins. He gives a sudden intake of breath, and you use the opportunity to look over your shoulder and give him your best pointed look. There is no real anger in your reaction, but you receive a somewhat contrite expression in response, and the offending arm comes up to wrap around your waist instead. Mollified, you roll over and push your face into his shoulder, earning yourself another arm wrapped around your shoulder, and fall asleep to the sensation of him nuzzling your hair.

 

* * *

 

The next time you wake up, light is streaming in through the windows. You open your eyes to see your friend watching you. He has you wrapped up into the crook of his arm, alternatively stroking your shoulders and curling your hair around his fingers. You feel like you could drift off again, but the sensation is so pleasant you don't want to.

The brightness of the room tells you it is normally much later than when the two of you would rise to start your day, but he seems perfectly content to linger here and play with your hair. You still feel somewhat shy, but nothing like the crippling embarrassment that almost prevented you from approaching him last night.

You shift a little in his hold and bring up a hand to lie against his chest

“…Bonjour.”

He looks at you, eyes bright and curious, and it dawn on you that you have never actually spoken to him in your own language. You smile and drop your head back down and listen to him repeat the word to himself several times under his breath.

Neither of you moves for a good while.


End file.
